


Weekend Plans

by hidinginplainsight (hidinginplain_sight)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Bonding, Cute, Danger, F/M, Things get weird, forewarned is forearmed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10712316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidinginplain_sight/pseuds/hidinginplainsight
Summary: Lucio, Hana, McCree and Mercy are all stuck at Watchpoint: Gibraltar while the rest of the team heads out for a mission. What could possibly go wrong? What could possibly get weird?





	1. 01: Departures

_**Friday, the 13**_ _ **th** _ _**of January  
The Helipad - 6:45pm** _

"…which ain't to say I wouldn't enjoy _that_ ," McCree continued, twirling his Peacekeeper lazily. "But I'd hate myself in the mornin' something fierce. You know the feelin'?"

Fareeha rolled her eyes. "I _rarely_ know what you're talking about, McCree, so this moment makes very little difference." McCree tipped his hat, smiling winningly.

"Aw sucks, cowgirl, ya don' have to go putting yerself down like that."

She sighed, rubbing the area between her eyes. She was already desperately calculating the amount of hours this deployment with her mother would last. _Her mother_. The words still sounded new on her lips.

Fareeha frowned in front of the helicopter. The rest of the team was already inside of it, save for the ones being left behind at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to her mother again, but…

What was there to say? _'How could you let me think that you were dead?'_ wasn't a bad start. Though he was rarely talkative, she'd noticed Jack Morrison had been even more quiet recently. He knew the guilt better than any, she supposed.

McCree squinted, spitting off to the side. "Ah, ya'll'll be alright. Come on. It's jus' _parents_." He chuckled, prompting an even more stone-faced Amari in front of him.

The grimace broke when Fareeha felt a hand upon her shoulder.

" _Keine Angst, Liebschen_ ," Angela softly intoned, smiling warmly. "She is your mother. These bonds do not break so simply." The pressure on Fareeha's shoulder increased.

She shook the hand off and tried her best to look put-together. Grabbing her helmet, she turned towards McCree and the doctor.

"You will be alright here with the children?"

McCree laughed. "You kiddin'? These young'uns'll have a blast. I guarantee." He mimicked a pistol with his fingers in a move he hoped was charming. Fareeha did not appear to think so.

"We will be fine. I have watched children before. Three should be no problem," Angela clasped her hands in front of her waist and nodded. " _Viel Gluck, Fareeha_."

Pharah finally smiled, and nodded thanks in return.

"We will see you in three days," was her only goodbye. The doors closed and the helicopter lifted off, bound for Greece.

When the winds died down, and the roar of the blades had faded to a dull drone, McCree let out a whistle, and removed a cigar from his breast pocket. "Man alive, I'm tellin' you doc, I will jus' _never_ get that girl to crack a laugh."

"She is very tense." Ziegler let out a sigh she didn't even realize she was holding in, and rolled her shoulder.

The two of them turned from the helipad, and began to walk back towards to barracks. "Tense _nothin'_ – she's a branch set to snap, and the wind's pickin' up by the second."

Angela found she did not disagree, which always worried her when the person she happened to be agreeing with was Jesse McCree. Beside her, he lit his cigar.

"God damn bad luck if ya ask me," he continued. "Girl needed'a ma a long time ago. Not now."

"What Fareeha _doesn't_ need," Angela began, pausing to look at McCree and make sure her message got through that thickest of skulls, "is to worry about us. We will keep the Watchpoint, and she will return having spoken through some things with her mother. It's most practical to just keep out of her way, not insinuate ourselves further into her problems."

"She needs a whiskey and a laugh." McCree removed his cigar to spit, and Angela took the opportunity to grab the offending object and throw it as far from her as possible.

"Wha-?"

" _Kein Rauchen_ , cowboy _._ Not on my watch, anyhow."

McCree sighed mightily. "You know, Fareeha's not the only one who could stand to crack open a bottle."

"More carcinogens. Equally impractical." Ziegler yawned, stretching her back. Increasingly she found it felt curiously naked when she wasn't encumbered by the Valkyrie suit.

"Yeah, yeah yeah…" McCree scratched his beard, trying not to reach for another cigar and incur more of the doctor's wrath. "Why'd you say three children, though? Reckoned it was jus' us, Hana and Lucio for the weekend?"

"Oh, don't worry. I counted you too."

Jesse looked over at his teammate to see the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips, prompting grin to spread across his face as well.

"What a strange three days it's gonna be."

"Indeed. Come. Let us see how everyone will be entertaining themselves."

* * *

_**The TV Room - 7:00 pm** _

Lucio didn't exactly know what Hana Song was yelling, but profanity sounded similar enough in any language for him to have a ballpark guess.

She threw the WiiMote across the room, and crossed her arms over her chest with a huff, sinking back down onto the couch next to him.

" _Duck Hunt_ ," she spat. "I can't believe you beat Samus with freaking _Duck Hunt_."

"I _told_ you I was good!" Lucio laughed, muting the TV and putting down his controller. "Weren't you supposed to be a pro-gamer?"

"Yeah! But that doesn't mean I'm good at, like, _every_ game!" Hana wildly gesticulated with her hands. "Starcraft has _strategy_! It's all about timing and managing the battlefield! This is button mashing nonsense! Freakin' _retro_ games, my hitbox was like… like…!" Hana got her hands back under control, and flung herself over the edge of the couch with a groan. " _Blugh!_ I just lost to a musician. JFKM."

Luico laughed harder, pulling on his skates. "Well, I'll tell you what: how about a rematch later tonight? If you beat me, I'll make sure no one knows that girl-wonder went down like a newbie."

The Korean sat up sharply, staring daggers into his eyes. "Don't. You. Dare. We _will_ rematch tonight and I swear on my life that you _will_ go down, and I'll do it with Samus!"

"Sounds good."

Lucio smiled and Hana felt her anger dissipate. She blushed, moving her eyes to anything that wasn't his face.

 _Come on. It's not like he was seriously gonna tell anyone, anyway._ Hana pushed off the couch, and navigated over to the refrigerator to get a soda. Thumbing her way past McCree's beer, she grabbed something from the back and popped off the cap.

Hana took a sip, before pointing at Lucio's skates with the bottle. "Where are you going?" She asked, trying to sound like she didn't want that rematch right this instant.

"I dunno, just felt like skating around the base a bit." He shrugged. "Still a little new here, ya know? Want to get the layout down."

"We've got all weekend, you know."

"Yeah, I know. It's just sorta my thing. You're more than welcome to come along if you want!" Lucio pulled down his earphones, "Rematch later, I swear." And with that, kicked off and disappeared from sight.

Hana sighed, glancing at the character selection screen, illuminating the room. The truth was she felt more at home here than anywhere outside, during the day. It wasn't that Hana didn't love the company of her teammates, but with so many people around (and honestly, Lena counted as nearly three people in the 'company' department), it was sometimes tough to just be alone for a while.

Sometimes she missed when she could just spend a night in, with the Protoss and her thoughts. Alone time was nice. Alone time let her sort things out.

 _Maybe the skating is his alone time? He was surely being polite when he asked for company._ Her brain offered.

Hana shivered. She sipped at her soda, before picking up her thrown controller and falling back down onto the couch. Checking over her shoulder, she selected Duck Hunt from the character select, and began the match alone.

It took ten minutes before she got up to see where the hell Lucio had disappeared to.

* * *

_**The TV Room - 7:30 pm** _

"Naw, they ain't here. They were though." McCree picked up a half-drunk bottle of Mountain Dew and tossed it into the nearest trashcan. _Vile stuff_ , he thought darkly. _Ain't nothing natural to that green._

He navigated his way over to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of Dos Equis. The fridge had been 's idea, back when she first arrived. Hell, the whole room had been her idea.

"Bonding!" she had yelled, in that distinctive chirp. "We're teammates! Nothing bonds people more than movies and games!"

McCree had scoffed at the idea at first, but it _had_ turned the previously empty, cavernous room into something resembling civilization. Just no civilization he could totally cotton to. _It's damn cold, even now._

He cracked open the beer and shrugged. Let the indoor kids have their place.

"You want one, doc?"

"No thank you." Angela leaned heavily into the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

McCree took a sip of the beer and let the silence linger for a moment.

"Whatcha got on yer mind?"

The doctor closed her eyes, as if trying to silence errant thoughts. "Nothing of importance."

"Still thinkin' about Amalia?" McCree plopped onto the couch next to his friend.

No answer. Another sip.

"She'll be fine, doc. I promis-"

"Can we please stop talking about it?"

McCree took a longer swig from his bottle, and looked forward at the television. He got to his feet, moving forward.

"Alright. How about a flick then?"

"Jesse, I appreciate what you're doing, but I do not desire company right at this moment."

"Bullshit."

From the couch, Angela opened her eyes. " _Excuse_ me?"

"That's bullshit. You wantin' to be alone." He opened the box where he kept his movies – the only _real_ movies on base if you asked him – and started to sift through the selection. "Ya know, we ain't always seen eye to eye, but you _are_ my friend doc. And I ain't no damn fool."

"What are you talking about?"

"This. That _thing_ where you close yer eyes and just shut down fer a bit. I've seen you do this weight-of-the-world act before. Made you miserable then, an' it makes you miserable now, and it don't do anyone no good." McCree stood, holding his selection. "So we're watchin' a movie. Gettin' yer mind off yer pals and back to where it should be: on yourself."

Angela shifted uncomfortably, looking to the ground.

"When's the last time you just relaxed, Angie?"

She honestly couldn't remember.

Shaking thoughts of the Amalia family out of her head, Angela met McCree's eyes and smiled. "…alright, cowboy. Have it your way. Let's watch a movie."

McCree grinned in response. "Perfect. Got jus' the thing for us."

Angela looked forward, surprised to find herself a little excited, "So, what film are we watching?"

Jesse turned around with a grin, "Oh, I think you _know_ what film we're watchin'."

Her smile immediately dissipated.

"No."

"Only the greatest movie of all time."

"No, Jesse, stop."

"Amazing performances, a memorable score, an eternal battle of bad n' good."

" _Bitte,_ not again."

He held the box up for her to see, sealing her fate.

"It's-"

"Don't you dare say it."

"… _High Noon."_

There was silence in the room. In the distance, waves crashed against the rockside.

"You know what? I think I _will_ have a beer."

* * *

_**The Observation Deck – 8:15 pm** _

When she had arrived for the first time at Watchpoint: Gibraltar, the exact size of the former Overwatch base had not quite sunk in with Hana Song. It was all still so _new_ , you know? Champion of the world, Omnic invasion, a summons from Overwatch… the last few years of Hana's life had been so eventful, that things had just sort of stopped shocking her along the way.

So upon her arrival at the Watchpoint, and her greeting of her new friends, she had never taken the time to map the place out. They were taken to all their missions in the helicopter, and upon arrival things were seemingly always objective-based. 'Where do I go? What do I shoot? Why do I shoot it?' Objectives made sense to her – objectives made sense in a way that people rarely seemed to anymore.

But presently, with almost zero objective in mind, Hana was hopelessly lost. She sighed, leaning her forehead against the glass of the observation deck. She shivered slightly, even through the oversized sweater she'd thrown on. Sweaters were like a hug that never ended. Hana liked sweaters, especially considering her battle gear tended to be far more revealing.

Battle gear… That's right, she was technically a soldier now; a cog in a war she couldn't fully wrap her head around.

Why were they fighting, anyway? _To make the world a better place._

Too vague. _Tough shit._

Hana frowned. She hadn't had much time to think about 'big picture things', either. She enjoyed being part of the team, absolutely, but it wasn't… was it…

… _was it all just a game?_ People could really die out there. People never died when the only battles she fought involved a mouse and keyboard.

Hana glanced down at the waves hitting against the rock.

And then she heard the skates.

Snapping out of her reverie, Hana put on a smile, and watched as Lucio rounded the corner. She waved as he skid to a stop in front of her.

"Hiya!"

"Hey yourself, D. Va!" Lucio panted for a moment, putting two fingers to the side of his throat. "Seen McCree or the doctor?"

"Not at all. They've been like ghosts since the helicopter." She glanced side to side, before leaning in lasciviously. "Think they're up to… _you know_?"

He cocked his head. "Wait, is… is that a thing?"

D. Va shrugged, skipping a little and turning to face him. "I dunno. They go way back I hear. I'm just saying if things get all _Boys Over Flowers_ this weekend, I'm sticking with you." She winked at him, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. "You don't have a choice in the matter. It's decided."

Lucio shrugged, taking a seat on the bench behind him. "Well, if it's _decided_ …" Hana laughed, coming over to join him on the bench.

"It is. Don't fight it."

The two teammates took a moment to enjoy the silence of the secluded room, that constant beat of the waves filling the space between them. It reminded Hana of a heart – the thrum of the machine she rode into combat. Sometimes when she closed her eyes inside of her MEKA, it felt alive. It was the all-consuming embrace of being someone that _mattered_. Who would she be if she didn't have the MEKA? What would she do with her life? Would she still be brave?

She glanced to her left, at the reclining Brazilian. _He_ didn't need a big metal bubble to dive into combat. Hell, Hana wasn't even sure you could consider what he carried a _gun_. That was bravery. That was heroism.

Hana frowned, prompting Lucio to glance over.

After a moment, he wet his lips, and drew a breath. "It's weird, don't you think?"

"Eh?"

"I mean, The Overwatch thing. A signal from someone we've only heard legends about. Showing up at this place out of the blue. I mean," he scratched the back of his head. "I like it. I love helping people, you know that."

Hana did. She smiled, thinking of how he'd never failed her on a deployment. The Audio Medic had never failed to raise her spirits, even when the tide of battle was turning against them.

Lucio continued, "But… I mean, it's also been kinda overwhelming. One minute I'm selling out concerts in Rio, and the next minute I'm jetting over to Europe for the good of mankind. It all just sorta happened so-"

"-fast?"

Lucio looked into her eyes, noticing only now how deep the brown in them went. It wasn't some dull, dirt brown – there was a spectrum in there. Deep burgundy spreading out from a fiery center. smiled, breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, it was really fast for me, too," she said, "I mean, everyone's great. They're _great_ , but they all have this, like, deep shared history. There's been a ton of times where… I dunno, I just feel like I have no idea what they're talking about. Like I couldn't." She looked at the ground, idly swinging her feet over the ground. Having been presumably designed for Winston, the bench was a degree larger than those she was used to, and Hana had never been a spectacularly tall girl.

"And it's not my English. I get the _words_ , it's just..." Hana thought. "It's all the things they're _not_ saying, I guess. Idk, it's kinda awkward sometimes."

Lucio slapped his knee. "Aw, man! Like that time Torbjorn told that Swedish joke and I _definitely_ didn't get it?"

Hana perked up immediately, turning and pointing. "Oh my god, thank you! Yes! Like that! What was the joke? What was funny?! Just 'Sweden' in general?"

"I've thought a lot about it, and I honestly have zero clue."

"Yeah! Like, I laughed because _they_ were laughing, you know?"

"Exactly! And I was just sitting to the side thinking 'Someone throw me a line here'!"

The two teammates laughed now, Hana doubling over, clutching her sweater to her stomach. Eventually Lucio swiped a small tear from his eye.

"Oh that makes me feel so much better. I felt like such an idiot! Really thought I was the only one."

Hana got her giggles under control. "Yeah, me too…"

When their eyes met, the gaze held a moment too long. No one else in the world would have noticed.

But Hana and Lucio did.

Eventually, she broke eye contact.

"Hey, uh," Hana tucked a hair behind her ear. "…this might be a little weird, but can I show you something?"

Lucio's eyebrows arched.

"I mean… probably?"

* * *

_**The TV Room – 8:55 pm** _

The outlaw Frank Miller was dead, and Gary Cooper had thrown his sheriff's star into the dirt, determined to leave this dirty town to its fate.

And somewhere along the way, Angela Ziegler realized she was drunk.

Well, maybe _drunk_ was a strong word for it. She wasn't sloppy drunk, mind you, but she was feeling it for sure. Honestly it wasn't that bad.

She was crying though.

"No one helped him…" she whispered, water leaking from her eyes, still glued to the screen. "He stood up for what was right, and they all abandoned him."

"Yeah, if it ain't sure the state of the world," McCree took another swig. "Ain't I shown you this movie before?"

"Yes, but I was never really paying attention." Angela buried her face in her hands. "It's just so _sad…_ "

McCree blew out a breath and took out a cigar. "Jeez, doc, I didn't mean t'make ya _more_ blue."

"No, it's okay, I think anything would have."

"Mind if I smoke?"

"No I… I don't care."

He lit it up, before pointing his Peacemaker at the ceiling.

Ziegler reached for another beer, and leaned heavier into the couch, wishing it could consume her entirely. She felt so useless when out of the suit, but the suit was also what gave her purpose. What was she without it? Who could she help as simply Dr. Angela Ziegler?

 _Not enough people_ , was surely the answer. _Never enough_.

The Dos Equis tasted bitter in her mouth, and she yearned for something German.

"Jesse?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think… do you think people care?" She rubbed her face. "I mean, I know we're doing the right thing, so honestly I'm not really sure if I _care_ whether they care or not, but… I mean…" She trailed off.

"…ya wanna know if it matters a lick?"

Angela didn't answer.

"It does, Doc. I reckon people need heroes even more than they know they do," he smiled, twirling the gun lazily. "Hell, _you_ know that."

"I do." Angela felt her face flush slightly more.

 _I shouldn't though._ Helping people was enough, wasn't it? Ziegler wasn't so sure anymore. No matter how many people you helped, there were always more screaming, dying, being hurt somewhere. It never seemed to end. In the suit or not, it wasn't like she could save everyone, no matter how much she tried.

McCree blew out a plume of smoke.

"Do you know why I became a cowboy?" He asked. Angela looked over at him skeptically. "Ain't a whole lotta cows to herd these days. You ain't never wondered about the getup?"

"Oh, I've _wondered_ plenty."

"Then why'd it happen? Take a stab."

Angela looked forward and weighed her words carefully.

"I think you were young, and you wanted to be someone important. Remembered."

"Ehhhhh, it's close, but no cigar. Lotsa things that make someone memorable. Coulda just shot some folks dressed up like a clown, if'n I really wanted to. Plenty memorable. Why cowboy? Use that big German brain."

Angela turned it over in her head.

"…honor. Cowboys had honor."

He shot her a smirk. "I knew you was one of the smart ones, doc. Yeah, cowboys had _honor_. Even if you was takin' from people, it wasn't like you took from no one what couldn't afford it. It wasn't meant to be mean or nothin'. You didn't shoot innocents and you never shot anyone in the back. Even your worst enemies."

Angela cracked her neck. The alcohol was really getting to her head now.

"Strange you would have joined Blackwatch then," she murmured. "Not exactly renowned for its ethics, is it?"

"Naw, you got it wrong. That part wasn't about _ethics,_ it was about _freedom_. I still wanted that sky," he pointed up, through the ceiling. Angela followed his finger. "I could be my own ethics, whenever I wanted. Hell, still am." McCree sighed, putting his cigar out next to himself.

"It's 'cowboy', because when I was a kid, I wanted nothin' more than to be John fuckin' Wayne. I knew he was an actor, long dead before I ever kicked in this world, but he _meant_ something to me. He was a hero when I needed one, and he changed my life. If I hadn't seen _The Searchers_ when I was this high, wouldn't a joined a gang, wouldn't a been a cowboy, wouldn't be talkin' to you right now. And if _that_ had never happened I'd've never known how pretty you _frauleins_ could be," he grinned, pleased with his obvious flattery. Angela felt a smile form, despite her best efforts to keep it at bay. She blamed the alcohol.

"Idiot," she chuckled.

McCree continued: "So yeah, doin' what we do? It _does_ matter, because if one person sees it – I mean _really_ sees it… might just change that person's life forever."

He stood, draining his bottle. For the first time in a long time, Angela had the strangest pull of empathy towards him. For one moment, all she saw was the little boy he had once been, watching movies and piecing together his place in the world. She loved that little boy. She wanted to protect him.

Tossing the empty bottle into the trash, Jesse extended his hand and helped the doctor to her feet. "I do gotta ask though, cuz I never have," he said, "what about _your_ getup? Why an angel?"

Ziegler found her legs and looked up at him, smiling like a little girl. She let out a soft laugh.

"I guess I just always wanted to fly."


	2. 02: Family Bonding

_**Location Classified – Time Redacted** _

" _Madre_ ," Sombra muttered, staring at the vial. "What am I even looking at?"

"Well, I'd call it a vial of death," Reaper began, turning it over in his hands, "but I don't like to be melodramatic. Also, that wouldn't be entirely accurate, would it, Widowmaker?"

The French woman shrugged, making sure her visor was fully calibrated for seemingly the 40th time that night. That's how it felt to Sombra anyway. It was hard to tell if this was in any way out of the norm for the sniper though. The company Sombra chose to keep with Talon was very rarely what most would describe as 'rational'.

"What would you like me to say?" Widowmaker inquired.

"Something clever?"

She shrugged again. "It is a weapon - it will work or it will not. All I know is I have one shot-"

"-one kill, _si_ , _te crees muy muy_." Sombra plucked the vial from Gabriel's hands and turned it over in her own. It was unlike any liquid she had ever seen. It looked vaguely iridescent in the low-light of the base. The color was... changing? Did it shimmer? " _Que es esto_ , anyways?"

Reaper stood at his full height, and menacingly offered his palm, face up. Even Sombra was smart enough to know it was not a suggestion. She placed it gingerly into his hand.

For a long time Reaper just stared at her - his mask as implacable and unreadable as death itself. Eventually there was a sound that made the hair on the back of Sombra's neck stand on end – a noise that sounded like the opening of a thousand year tomb.

Was that... a _chuckle_?

Reaper turned away from her. "Do you remember the Omnic War well?"

Sombra massaged her arms, trying to bring some warmth back into them. "Not super, no."

"What a shock," Widowmaker quipped absently. Sombra scrunched up her nose at the sniper. _Snooty European bitch._

"Let's just say I fell asleep in history, okay?"

Reaper continued, "Well then you're probably not aware of the XK-41 project?"

Sombra shrugged, the answer obvious. Reaper made his way over to the Frenchwoman and gently handed her the vial. "To be totally fair, it was short lived. Highly classified. Only a select few in Blackwatch knew about it, and those that did... well," Reaper glanced back at her. That same, unreadable mask. "Let's just say they weren't talkers."

"They weren't talkers, or they could _no longer talk_?"

Reaper didn't respond to this. He plowed ahead, regardless:

"XK-41 was a neuroviral mutagen. Way old tech. Idea was to drop it behind enemy lines, and watch carnage break lose. This vial is the last of it. All I could scrounge up." He turned to look at her again. "We're gonna shoot it right into the heart of Watchpoint: Gibraltar."

The room suddenly felt a whole lot colder.

Sombra shivered. Her moral radar was not exactly traditionally aligned, but this... _Madre Dios_ , he was suggesting something...

_Something I will not be a part of,_ her brain finished for her. Sombra nodded and put a smile on, painfully aware that she would not be allowed to leave this room if she was known to no longer be a team player. For Gabriel, telling her this was his insurance: get on board or die, die, die...

"So what's the plan?" Sombra asked, trying to sound as casual as she could, "Frenchie shoots it in, we go in next when they're confused or something?"

"Oh, we won't be going in at all," Gabriel said, "We won't need to."

Sombra was liking this less and less. She had no love for Overwatch but if Reaper was suggesting what she thought he was… well, she couldn't allow this to happen to anyone. Not even her worst enemies.

Widowmaker put the vial in the chamber, cocked the gun, and stood at the ready. "It's a long flight," she murmured, cracking her neck. "We should begin right now."

Sombra put on what she thought might look like a smile. "Of course. _Rapido, Senora_."

* * *

_**The Repair Bay – 9:15 pm** _

"Sarah," Hana patted the side of her MEKA lovingly. "I call her Sarah Kerrigan." It was the pink one; the classic. Hana sighed, feeling the smooth steel under her palms. "I know it's geeky, but, idk it was the only thing that felt _right._ Couldn't go into battle if I didn't know that Sarah had my back."

She looked at her teammate, "Oh, it's from-"

"Starcraft, yeah, I get it." Lucio grinned at how taken aback the girl looked.

"Y-you _play_?!"

Lucio shrugged, nonchalant as he could manage. "I may have dabbled…"

D. Va bounded off the MEKA and took his hands in her own. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. She looked at Lucio like she had just discovered her new best friend.

"…we've so much time to make up for," she whispered, prompting a booming laugh from the Brazilian.

"No, but for real: I'm not being funny, I've _only_ dabbled. I woulda told you if it was a big thing for me, I promise."

"It's a big thing for _everybody_ ," Hana insisted. "You love it or you don't. There is no casual Starcraft."

"Then I love it, I guess," Lucio smiled, abashed at how god damn adorable the Korean girl looked right now. "It's been a while, though. I used to play back in high school a lot, before I discovered music."

D. Va stared at him with concern, as if trying to assess how bad a situation was. Eventually, she smiled and nodded. "We can work on that."

Lucio was somewhat dubious of the prospect of Hana's Starcraft tutelage, but he was also… not opposed. Alone time with Hana was fun. She was the strangest mix of girly, geeky, and determined he'd ever met in someone, and the blend of all three crammed into this little Korean girl was just…

' _Intriguing'_ his brain forced as the ending to that sentence. It was the softest version of what he probably meant. Intriguing indeed.

Currently, Hana released his hands, slipping them into the front of her hoodie and turning back to the MEKA, "So yeah. 'Sarah'. It's not a big thing, but… I didn't really tell anyone yet. I thought they'd think I was lame or something." Hana approached it again, scratching at some smudge on the windshield of the vehicle. "I feel like 'the kid' here a lot as it is. I don't want… I wouldn't want them to think I was incapable."

"I don't think anyone thinks that," Lucio offered, honestly. "You've got their backs; they know that."

Hana let her hand drift off, unconvinced. "Yeah, I guess." She let herself sink more into her hoodie.

Lucio watched her back for a moment.

"McCree definitely doesn't know what 'nerf this' means, though," Lucio said. His heart leapt when his comment prompted a fit of giggles from the girl. He liked it when she laughed.

She turned back to him, "He's probably like 'what's a nerf?'"

"Oh undoubtedly!"

"Do _you_ know what it means?" she asked.

"Not a clue, and I was probably your best hope," Lucio grinned and gave a thumbs-up. "I just know it means 'get out of the way, D. Va's about to lay some serious smack-down.'"

D. Va laughed again, jumping a little in excitement.

"Aw man," she said, wiping a tear away from her eye. "You're cute, you know that?"

Silence. The whirr of machinery and the far-off blip of Winston's computers.

If blushing deeply had a sound, this was it.

"I-uh!" Hana began in earnest, shaking her hands in front of herself, "I mean, like, you're 'friend-cute'!"

"Y-yeah. For sure."

"I mean, like, you know," Hana babbled, hoping against hope she didn't look as red as she felt, "you know how there's like, sometimes there's cute like a little bunny or something? Not like an 'I'm attracted to this bunny', like that would be super weird omfg, but it's still enjoyable and adorable and cute?" She looked at him, desperately.

Lucio nodded, a little jittery. "For sure! Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

" _Yup_ …"

Lucio scratched the back of his head. Hana noticed something terribly interesting on the floor that required her full attention.

There were six rivets in each panel of the floor. Imagine that!

Eventually Lucio cleared his throat. "So uh… is it just Sarah?"

Hana snapped out of it. "Un?" Lucio pointed at her MEKA, over her shoulder.

"It's just Sarah, then?"

Hana took a beat, then shook her head no. "N-nah, they all have names."

"Well don't leave me hangin' D. Va!" Lucio grinned, spreading his arms. "What do you call them?"

"You can call me 'Hana', you know that, right?"

Lucio blinked. "Uh, yeah... no problem. Sorry, I thought you might prefer-"

"Nope," she smiled and drifted onto her tiptoes for a second, hands clasped behind the small of her back. "No, I like Hana. I like it when you call me that. D. Va is for fans, Hana is for friends."

After a moment, he nodded. "Alright, let's do friends then. Lead the way, Hana."

"Yeah, that's a lot better better." Hana took a breath, and looked at the next MEKA – the Junker model variation.

"Okay," she said cracking her knuckles, "how aware are you of this old movie called 'Fury Road'?"

* * *

_**Somewhere Over the Mediterranean Ocean – 11:00 pm** _

While many people practiced quiet meditation in their spare time, for Hanzo Shimada the practice was an absolute necessity. Quieting the demons in his brain required concentration, discipline, and absolute silence.

Of course, Lena Oxford considered all those things 'kinda boring'.

"I mean, I _know_ it's science or suffink like that," Tracer continued, her incessant talking entering its forty-fifth minute, "but how _do_ helicopters work, anyway? Like, rockets I get. Planes I get – they're rockets with wings – but propellers are just like fans, right?"

She cocked her head to the left, and Hanzo marveled again at how inexhaustible the young woman's stream-of-consciousness seemed to be.

"—And fans, well, it's not like you can just grab a fan, point it up and have a go, right? Maybe you need to be shaped right? I mean, think about it," she patted Hanzo's exposed shoulder, as if that would somehow prompt any response.

_Concentration, discipline, absolute silence._

"If I put three fans on my back, and laid down – and I'm of course speaking hypothetically here-"

_Concentration…_

"-truly I'm not sure how I'd even _attach_ the fans. Surely you can't just _graft_ them into my-"

_Conc-_

"-well, Pharah, you fly, right? Is it worth figuring out the fans thing just to get that view?"

"If you really wanted to appreciate the view," Hanzo suggested, "I'm sure that Winston would be willing to open the door _right now_ and you could discover first hand."

Absolute silence.

Winston leaned forward and put on the radio.

Fareeha glanced at her mother, who hadn't met her eyes the entire trip and was currently staring out the window and into the endless black of the ocean below. Fareeha thought of Angela, and the warmth of the Watchpoint, and how she'd rather be anywhere in the world but here.

Her misery, of course, was underscored by the reggae-influenced sounds of classic pop music that would never die.

" _I just want to fly,_  
Put your arms around me, baby  
Put your arms around me baby."

* * *

_**The HeliPad – 11:45pm** _

In her very professional medical opinion, 'drunk' was a very strong word for how Angela Ziegler was feeling. This must just be tipsy, right? This was 'maybe sleep in an extra hour tomorrow' status.

But then again, here she was on the HeliPad, watching as McCree set up most of the 12-pack they'd somehow finished in the last few hours.

She'd better let him know anyway, just in case he got the wrong idea.

"For the record," she told him as he scurried back excitedly to where she was some twenty paces away, "I'm not drunk."

McCree laughed as he removed his revolver from his holster.

"Aw, come on, Ang. I'd never think that about _you_." He checked to make sure all six rounds were in the chambers.

"And I'm not German, by the way." Angela turned her own pistol over in her hands, _preeeeetty_ sure she was holding it correctly. McCree glanced at her, blinking through alcohol a little himself.

"What's that you're spitting?"

"Earlier you alluded to the fact that I might be German," Angela pointed at her chest, where her cross hung. "I'm Swiss."

"Well, I'll be _hanged_ ," McCree said, with a wayward grin. "I jus' thought that was a medical thing."

"Pfft," Angela scoffed, still smirking despite herself. "Well, you Americans are famous for your geography knowledge. _So_."

McCree flicked up the front brim of his hat. "Ya know, Ang – you're one'a the only gals I know who can say 'alluded' when you're more'n a few sheets to the wind. I like that about you."

"Yes, well. It's… a word." Angela hiccupped, covering her mouth. "And I'm not drunk."

"Sure y'aint. Now, anywho," McCree held his pistol up at the ready. "I'm itchin' for some OK Corral action. You good to shoot, _fraulein_?"

Ziegler cracked her neck and took up the firing position.

"Alright, most bottles down wins," McCree glanced over at his friend. "I can go easy on your woman-hands, if'n you'd like. I know you don't shoot all that much."

"Oh, _please_ ," Angela stared down at the bottles, trying to discern how many there _were_ , exactly. "What is it that Hana says? 'Aggro-Mercy'?"

McCree laughed and looked back at their target. "Fair enough, Ang, fair enough." He cracked his neck, put an unlit cigar in his mouth, and channeled every one of his heroes. "Okay… draw!"

Their movement was fast and simultaneous.

Shots rang out above the base, breaking the silence of the night and the ocean.

For a brief moment, Widowmaker was afraid that she had been spotted. God only knew where that Mexican brat had scurried off to, but now, pressed down into the metal rigging above the base, she was nearly _certain_ no one could see her.

Stealth had never been a problem for her, but mistakes happened. Even to Amelie.

After the shots ended, excited shouts, followed by laughter rang out below her.

"I'll be _SPUN!_ "

"I told you, cowboy! I _told_ you I could shoot!"

Amelie glanced over the ledge, down about twenty meters to where the blonde woman and that weird American were, on the HeliPad.

The blonde woman was jumping, excited and drunk. The American had thrown his hat down and seemed to be stomping on it, screaming obscenities. Currently, he pointed at her.

"That's unfair! You used some a' that… that…"

"What did I use, Jesse? Huh?!" she approached him, poking him in the chest with a finger and giggling. "Maybe it was just my _woman-hands?_ "

The one she called Jesse shook his head in disbelief, arms crossed. "You used some kinda gizmo, I'm sure of it!"

"Oh, yes, Jesse. A _gizmo_ , that's right. _Genau_." The woman crossed her arms and nodded her head sagely. "You sure do know the ways of the world. This is your domain that I simply tread by."

The American approached her, grabbing her by the shoulders. It was a rough gesture, but it wasn't unwelcomed. The woman looked shocked, but not unwilling. She made no move to break free.

Amelie watched in fascination, straining to hear the rest of their conversation.

"You…" Jesse began, looking for words. The woman licked her lips.

"I _what_ , Jesse?"

"…you Swiss gals sure are _smug_."

She smiled. Amelie watched as she whispered something else – far too quietly for the sniper to hear – and was immediately pulled into a passionate kiss.

There was no surprise from either party – it looked more like a promise fulfilled. There was just the sound of the waves now as the two teammates embraced, and lost each other in their long, private moment.

From somewhere deep inside of herself, Amelie felt a tug. Something distantly familiar from a thousand years ago. For a moment, she allowed the feeling to envelop her, rolling over on the girder and gazing up at the stars.

Then she pulled down her visor. Rolling over again, away from the couple, she slipped the vial into the chamber and scanned the ground for an appropriate location for delivery.

Gabriel had said anywhere in the dirt should work. That should allow for maximum spread of XK-41 and maximum damage to team Overwatch. The base was barely even manned right now. Who knew how bad things would have gotten by the time the whole team assembled again?

Then there would be no more laughing. There would be no more moonlit kisses between old friends.

There would be struggle and sacrifice, fire and dismay. The screams of a thousand years unleashed.

Widowmaker smiled at the thought, and pulled the trigger.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Next time on Weekend Plans. Sombra appears with a plea for safety! D. Va and Lucio put their budding romance on hold for danger! McCree and Mercy acknowledge mistakes! And things finally get weird!
> 
> It'll come faster than this update. Hope you enjoyed.


	3. 03: Weekend Plans

_**Lucio's Quarters – 11:48pm** _

"Holy… omfg," Hana whispered, her face pressed up against the window. "They're  _kissing_."

When Hana's tour of the various MEKA had concluded, Lucio had  _insisted_  she see his collection of football jerseys. Once he had offered to show Jack Morrison, but it quickly devolved into talk of 'touchdowns' and… whatever the hell else happened in American football. 'Soccer', Lucio had needed to specify, at which point Soldier 76 had lost interest entirely.

At least the Korean understood what he was talking about. This had lead to him playing some music from his laptop, which lead to D. Va dancing adorably in place while listening, bouncing around his room and chatting about her favorite parts of his songs, which lead to the window, which lead to-

"Like, no joke. They're  _making out_. It's getting kinda-" Hana ended the sentence with an 'eep!' Her hand clamped down over her mouth. She was blushing.

Lucio joined her at his barracks window, which just so happened to overlook the Helipad. He had always liked the view of the sunrise from there, but it was deep dark now. The lights left on the landing pad were meant for night time helicopter landings, but at this moment they fulfilled an ancillary purpose: giving just enough illumination to perfectly frame Mercy and McCree, locked in a tight embrace.

" _Whoa,_ " was all that Lucio had to add. He watched as Angela tilted her head back and sighed. Jesse's hand was gripping at her back as he kissed her neck. Lucio felt an uncomfortable-yet-exciting tingle in the pit of his stomach – the unmistakable feeling of forbidden sights. Voyeurism.

"Sh-should we be watching this?" he asked, subconsciously wetting his lips. "Are they even allowed to-"

"I really don't know…" Hana whispered, her hand hovering uncertainly in front of her lips. She breathed out, and the window fogged gently on her exhale.

Lucio suddenly felt aware of the proximity of Hana's shoulder to his. Even through the sweater, she burned like fire.

He shook the thought of Hana's shoulder out of his head, and found his voice again: "Hey, maybe we should-"

Down below, Jesse's hand snaked under Angela's shirt and the two teammates sprung away from the glass in unison. The intimacy was out of view, forever. For a moment, neither moved.

Then D. Va began pacing again, more furiously.

" _Woooooooowwwwww…_ " she said at length, finally taking her place on Lucio's bed, hugging her knees to her chest. And then, all in one breath: "Wow wow wow wow  _wow_ …. "

Lucio realized he had nothing else to add that couldn't be summed up by that statement. He glanced over at her. Hana's eyes were huge. She staring ahead at nothing in particular, her face a bright vermilion.

Hana grabbed his pillow from her left and started worrying it in her hands, seemingly unable to keep still with nervous excitement. "Like, okay, I might have called that earlier, but I  _swear_  it was a joke! I had  _no_  idea!"

She leaped to her feet, and the pacing returned with a fury. "It's just like, that shipping part of my brain kicked on, because I knew we were gonna all here alone all weekend-"

"The what?" Lucio asked. In contrast to all of Hana's hyperactivity, he found himself rooted to the spot in the middle of his room, following her with his eyes.

Hana stopped, gesticulating wildly. "You know, when you see a movie or play a game and you like two people and you're just like 'They should kiss!' or something? It just gives you a warm feeling because you like both of them? You know what I mean?" She looked at him imploringly.

_Not at all,_  he thought.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and the flutter of activity started again.

"So, I wasn't even serious about it or nothing, I always shipped her with Pharah, tbh, and I wouldn't have even opened my big stupid mouth if I knew it was… that they were actually…" she skid to a stop in the center of the room, hugging her arms to her chest. She looked back up at Lucio. The blush hadn't vanished yet. "…I mean, they were like  _really_  going at it."

"Yeah, that was pretty intense," Lucio said, glancing back towards the window to avoid thinking about how overwhelmingly attractive his teammate looked when she was buzzing with activity and be-sweater'd and… well, just  _Hana_. A night spent hanging out and bonding had done nothing but deepen feelings stirring inside of him about the beautiful enigma that was Hana Song.

She sat on the bed again, seemingly having run out of room in the small dorm to interact with. Absently, D. Va collapsed on the bed and let out a long, stressful sigh, still taking it all in.

"Yikes, it's just so embarrassing," she murmured.

Lucio rubbed the back of his head, nodding in agreement. Now that the Hana-storm had subsided, the room felt almost awkwardly still. Neither D. Va or Lucio had the courage to make eye-contact - they were both of them witnesses to a moment of intense intimacy. And they were friends, sure! That didn't make it any less uncomfortable.

They shared a secret now, one probably better left forgotten.

"We… probably shouldn't mention this when we see them."

"Oh yeah. Totes not," D. Va shook her head emphatically. "Never ever."

Lucio turned, mouth open to say something, but the image of his budding crush reclined on his bunk stopped him dead. Her sweater had lifted slightly, exposing her navel to the open air and drawing his eye. Even moments from freak-out, D. Va just looked so peaceful and at home – it seemed to him that she seemed at home anywhere. Unbidden by his brain, Lucio's eyes traced up the slender length of her stomach, around the gentle push of her bust, past her chin and the marks on her cheeks and right up into D. Va's own eyes.  _Hana_ , his brain reminded him.  _D. Va to fans, Hana to-_

Suddenly it clicked in his brain what he was doing. After what they had just seen, the last thing he should be doing is openly 'checking out' his new teammate, no matter how devastatingly beautiful she may be. Presently, Lucio's eyes were still locked onto her own. Worry crossed over his features.

_Oh god, I hope she didn't notice that…_  he thought.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then D. Va shot up, abandoning comfort and firmly planting her hands at her sides. She straightened her sweater back down to where it should be and stared intently at the ground.

Lucio swallowed uncomfortably. Oh _she_ _ **noticed**_. He felt heat creep to his face as well.

"I um…" Hana cleared her throat, still unsure what to do with her hands. "I should... I should go."

"Yeah, no problem," Lucio took a step away from her, desperately trying to show he didn't mean whatever she thought he might.

"Uh-huh." Hana quickly scanned her brain to see if there was anything left to say, eventually landing on: "Yeah. Right. Okay then." She got to her feet, straightened her sweater, and headed out the door.

"G'night, Lucio!" she called without looking back. Lucio affected a half-turn to wave.

"Goodni-!"

The door shut behind her. Not quite a 'slam', but that was certainly the word that came to mind.

Lucio let out a disappointed sigh he didn't know he was holding in. Leaning against the window, he closed his eyes and tapped his forehead gently against the glass.

_Stupid, stupid, **stupid**... Great job freaking her out and looking like a weirdo. _ Even if he was... attracted to Hana, first and foremost he wanted them to be friends. She was pretty, sure, but he also really liked her. She was fun to hang out with.

Hell, he had been really looking forward to that rematch...

Lucio looked back out onto the Heli-Pad, but neither Mercy nor McCree were in sight.

Below, in the darkness, he felt the sea. Lucio turned off his lights, closed his laptop, and got ready for bed.

He'd always been a morning person, anyway.

* * *

_**The HeliPad – 11:50pm** _

Even from under the heavy blanket of drunkenness, Angela Ziegler's body felt afloat.

No, it wasn't that the alcohol had dulled her senses – it had just muted the ones that didn't matter anymore. Things like 'common sense' and 'duty' had been mercifully quieted in lieu of the more important things.

Things that right now included every inch of her naked skin touching Jesse's. Angela leaned her head back felt the scratch of his stubble trace down her neck, followed by the soft suction of his lips. A moan escaped from the bottom of her throat, thick with desire.

Gott _,_ how long had it been since someone had touched her like that? How long had it been since she was touched at all? Angela was always needed, but she so seldom felt  _needed_  – to be the choice someone made instead of the hero someone required. She hadn't even realized how deeply she'd wanted that. With an instant of clarity, she realized in tandem how much she wanted  _him_.

She hated the smoking, she hated his flippant approach to every mission – jokes and puns when lives were on the line. She hated all this about McCree, but at this moment, she  _relished_  the taste of smoke on his lips and the gruffness of his hands.

Hands that at this very moment had found their way under her shirt, exploring greedily. He wasn't the silly cowboy McCree right now, he was a man who wanted her. He was-

" _Jesse._ Oh,  _bitte_ …" she breathed, before the rest of her sentence was cut off by vowel sounds. McCree for his part, didn't respond, obviously too preoccupied with setting her body on fire.

She thought about pushing him away – she knew she should - but she realized she  _wanted_  them to keep going. Angela was always the one that needed to be there for others; she had to be perfect, awake, immediate,  _always_. But no, tonight she needed the night off. Embarrassed as she was to admit it, she longed for the pure, white, angel of mercy to get a little covered in scratches tonight.

But embarrassment didn't exist here, not after all those Dos Equis. Nothing existed here, not even her petty victory over this proud idiot. All that existed here on this platform was Jesse and his molten heat and his hands as they worked their way under her shirt, around to the naked small of her back before coming back up front and slipping under-

" _Puta madre_ , you guys really aren't going to stop, are you?" said literally no one at all.

Which, of course, stopped them both dead.

Nothing was warm now. Nothing was drunk or beautiful or wonderful, and never would be again.

Angela realized with stone cold sobriety that her gun was not in her hands, which currently only felt the rough burlap of McCree's cloak. She felt the gentle, firm push of a barrel into the lower half of her spine, where Jesse's hands had just been exploring.

Nothing but fear now. Fear and unadulterated panic. Angela swallowed uneasily. She looked to Jesse's face, now stony-eyed and glaring over her shoulder.

"Don't you shoot her," came his gruff whisper. A command. "Don't you  _dare_ pull that trigger."

"Oh, I make no promises," the voice laughed. "Now why don't you two horny teens get your clothes back where they should be, and we march right inside?"

Jesse didn't move. Angela ran a million calculations in her head – anything that wouldn't end in their deaths, that would explain what she assumed was about to be their kidnapping. Theirs deaths?  _Oh god,_  she thought,  _I was supposed to be there for Fareeh-_

The gun pushed harder.

"That might have sounded like a request, but it wasn't," the voice she now recognized as Sombra said.

Jesse cleared his throat. "Lemme get my hat."

"I have your hat,  _estupido._  And your gun." There was no laughter in the voice now, simply facts. "Now come on – we don't have a lot of time."

* * *

_**The Outskirts of the Watchpoint – 12:00 am – Midnight** _

"Widowmaker reporting in, still waiting for pickup," Amelie called again. It was past time. The operation had called for maximum speed and stealth. In and out in ten minutes had been the working plan. It was now fifteen. Even allowing for Amelie's moment of reverie above the platform, she had made it back with time to spare.

No, she was not the problem. Reaper was never late, not accidentally.

_He left you_ , the Spider at the back of her heart whispered. The Spider spoke often – she let Amelie know what must be done.  _He's not coming back_.

Amelie knew The Spider was right, but she still felt the numbness of confusion. Why would Gabriel do that? What's his plan?

Talon was a cutthroat organization, this she knew well, but to toss her into danger without fully explaining the operation? He wouldn't do that to her. Not  _her_. After all, in some part of her mind, she had always thought of them as-

- _friends?_ The Spider laughed.  _You have no friends, Amelie. You are alone, now and always._

She brought her fingers up to her surveillance to hail again, but after a moment of indecision, her hand dropped to her side.

The Spider only spoke truth, it was what kept her alive and let her do her job.

Gabriel Reyes and her friends? Her and Sombra? Ha-ha.  _Très drôle._

Widowmaker turned away from the false safety of the ocean and back towards the dormant monster of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Reaper's plans could wait, as could the dull sting of betrayal in what remained of her heart.

This wasn't about escape anymore, this was about survival.

The odds of that were honestly slim, for Amelie was maybe the only person on this godforsaken rock who knew exactly what the XK-41 was capable of. She was acquainted enough about its horrors to know that she couldn't survive the onslaught alone, not for the indefinite time period of 'whenever Gabriel decided to show back up'.

Amelie grimaced. She gripped the underside of her rifle until her knuckles turned white. I lived in Paris once, she mused. I used to dance. I should be there right now. Happy.

_You'll_ _**never** _ _be happy. You will never be happy again._

And Amelie knew it to be true. Soon, the XK-41 would take effect, and when that happened: every dead soldier under their feet, from the Omnic War to the First Crusade, would rise and take arms. They would shamble towards anything living, and they would tear and gnaw and rip at its flesh until it joined their ranks. Then after two days, it would naturally fizzle out into nothingness. 48 hours, by Amelie's memory – then all the dead would return, and the world would forever be granted reprieve from the angry, clawing horde.

But until Sunday, it would sweep over the island like an angry tide, until nothing breathed, cared, or loved anything anymore.

_Just like you_.

Amelie sighed, and looked again at the darkness of the empty sky. She promised herself that she would give Gabriel ten more minutes, before she made her way back into the base and started to make allies with the people she hated the most. Probably, anyway.

Weekend plans were always subject to change.

* * *

_AN: Things finally got weird. Time to party._

**Author's Note:**

> As did we all, Angela. To be continued.


End file.
